


We'll Take What Comes

by ironxprince



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Flash Thompson Bullies Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Kidnapped Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26340313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironxprince/pseuds/ironxprince
Summary: Five times Peter takes pride in being mistaken for Tony’s son, and the one time it almost kills him.In this story, Civil War never happened. Tony recruited Peter unbeknownst to the other Avengers to take him under his wing and keep him safe. Spider-Man’s identity remains hidden.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 297
Collections: Irondad and his Iron kids, The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	1. Natasha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vintervittran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vintervittran/gifts).



Natasha’s visit is unexpected as she strolls into the lab, and for the first couple of minutes Tony doesn’t notice her as she stands by the doorway. He’s too focused on the work in front of him as he’s hunched over his desk, a teenager at his side, the older adjusting the machinery as the younger fixes the wires.

“If I move this aside,” Tony says, “then you can-”

The kid shakes his head. “No, not those.  _ These _ ones have to be connected first.”

“But the program-”

“First checks this possibility, which means they have to connect to be considered valid.”

Tony goes quiet for a moment, before huffing out a laugh and adjusting his position. “Nice one.”

The kid blushes. “Thanks.” He connects the wire with steady hands as Tony looks on, smiling softly. Natasha raises a brow in suspicion. “Okay, now, what were you saying?”

“You’d connect the red one to this prong over here, and-”

“The red ones are the ones that make the bomb explode, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Pete, you know very well those movies aren’t real, and this  _ definitely  _ isn’t a bomb-”

“He’s right, you know,” Natasha says, and Tony startles, bolting upright. To the kid, Pete’s, credit, he barely flinches, simply lifting his eyes to hers. “Red wires are a bad idea, and I know what I’m talking about, trust me.”

It’s then that Pete straightens, regarding her with wide eyes. “You’re the Black Widow.”

Natasha grins, pushing away from the doorframe and gliding toward their desk. “That, I am. And who might you be?”

Pete’s mouth opens, then closes - speechlessness in the presence of a hero, Natasha guesses. Tony nudges Pete’s shoulder and answers for him.

“This is Peter. Pete, Black Widow works fine on the battlefield. Otherwise, it’s just Natasha.”

Peter flushes red and juts a hand out in Natasha’s direction. “Um, hi.”

Natasha smiles back at him. “Hey.”

Tony claps Peter on the shoulder. “Kid, why don’t you head upstairs and get something to eat as I talk with double-0 seven here?”  _ Kid. _

Peter drops his gaze as he nods, rubbing the back of his neck and casting one final glance toward whatever project they’d been working on - it looks like the Iron Man gauntlet, but Tony wouldn’t trust just anyone with that technology, Natasha knows.

Peter hurries from the room and Tony smiles fondly after him as he goes, relaxing down into his desk chair. “Not even going to bother asking how you got in,” he says, sliding over to his computer and beginning to squint at something on the screen.

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on telling you.” Tony smiles faintly. “I wanted to let you know about the terrorist situation in France. Sam and Rhodes have got it covered.”

“Great,” Tony mutters, mainly focused on the screen in front of him; but though his attention is somewhere else, Natasha knows he can hear her just fine.

“He has your brains, you know.”

Tony side-eyes her from the computer. “Sam or Rhodes?”

“Peter.”

“... Oh,” Tony says quietly, and his eyes become unfocused, drifting away from the screen. “Yeah, he’s got quite the mind, that kid.”

Natasha leans closer as Tony shakes his head, the pleasant smile slipping from his features as he goes back to work. “Why didn’t you tell any of us you had a kid?”

Tony’s head shoots up. “What? I don’t- Peter… he’s not my kid.”

Natasha’s brow furrows; all the signs had led toward it. “You called him  _ kid. _ ”

Tony leans back from his computer, giving all his attention to the conversation as he lets out a soft sigh. “Okay, so he’s my kid, but he’s not…  _ mine. _ ”

“What, like, adoption?”

“No, I-” Tony lifts his hands up to hold at his temples. Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Just spit it out. Stop being so dramatic.”

Tony shakes his head, his eyes closed. “He’s, uh, my intern.”

“Intern.”

“Yup.”

“Yeah, right. Double-0 seven, remember?”

Tony drops his hands, letting his features relax as he opens his eyes and looks up at her. “He’s a good kid,” Tony says, and Natasha knows that this, at least, isn’t a lie - and maybe it’s the best truth she’s going to get. Honestly, if the relationship makes Tony this happy, Natasha can’t find it in herself to oppose it.

“Alright, well, I’m spending the next couple of days in the tower until my mission on Tuesday, so you’ll be seeing me around.”

Tony offers her a half-quirked smile. “I look forward to it.”

Natasha turns and strolls from the room. She hears Peter attempt to scramble away from where she knows he waits by the doorway; she gives him the courtesy of closing the door so Tony doesn’t hear when she speaks to him.

“I know you’re here,” she says, and it takes a moment before Peter leans around the corner, his cheeks a bright red. It’s adorable. “You heard?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Peter says quickly, stumbling over his words. “I got a snack-” he holds up the chip bag in his hands- “and then I came back down and you guys were still talking, but I figured you might be done soon so I should wait, but-”

“Wait, you could hear us through the door?”

“Um, yeah,” Peter says slowly. The bag crumples between his fingers. Natasha hums thoughtfully; she knows  _ she  _ wasn’t able to hear Tony and Peter’s conversation before she pulled the door open.

Something’s up here.

Natasha decides not to dwell on it. Tony will tell her if she needs to know, and right now, with how happy the kid is (presumably after hearing just what he wanted to hear), she feels she’ll be taking advantage of him if she were to ask him questions in his euphoric state. So, she pats him on the shoulder and steps past him to the stairs.

Just before she leaves, she glances back. She watches Peter drop his head and smile wide, before controlling his expression into a neutral state and pulling the door to the lab open. Tony lifts his head as Peter approaches, and they smile at each other.

Natasha grins as she heads up to her floor.


	2. Steve & Sam

Steve never liked working late; that was always Tony’s arena. Now, though, there’s still two missions to be discussed, three threats to assess, and a mountain of paperwork to get through, and it’s almost midnight.

Steve leans against the counter in the kitchen during one of their breaks, a steaming cup of coffee nestled between his fingers. Sam is using the machine beside him and Tony is settled at the table, casually sipping his almost-empty mug. The dark circles under his eyes are the only indication that he’s the slightest bit tired; otherwise, Tony looks to be in his element. Steve would roll his eyes if it didn’t make his brain hurt as he goes for another sip.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway has Steve looking up. Natasha and Bruce are still in the meeting room, Clint is most likely asleep somewhere, and last Steve had checked, Rhodes was heading down to the training room (running keeps him alert, he says). The person that ends up trailing into the room is the last person Steve expects to see - a young boy, sixteen at most, wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt with hair that sticks up in an oddly familiar way. It’s the recognizable physical appearance that has Steve remaining silent as the boy trails into the room, heading straight for Tony. Steve watches him as he passes, and Sam chokes on his coffee. They’re thinking the same thing, then - this kid looks  _ exactly  _ like a mini-Tony.

And that was before they even saw his face.

The kid reaches the table and opens his mouth to speak when Tony raises an eyebrow and points to where the guests stand at the counter. The boy turns with a frown before understanding crosses his features and he raises a hand. “Oh, hi,” he says. “You guys are here.”

It’s then that Steve sees his eyes, and if the hair bears no resemblance to Tony’s, the eyes definitely give it away. Large and wide and a deep brown that sparkle with intelligence and amusement and analysis, like they know more than you do, like they  _ see  _ more than you do, and like they find it funny. In Tony’s gaze, the expression can be perceived as taunting; but in this kid’s, he just looks gleeful.

An expression of fantastical amusement crosses Sam’s features, and Steve’s lips quirk up into a smile.

“Hey, kid,” Sam says, and Steve lifts his hand in a wave. The boy just nods and turns back to Tony. Odd, to say the least. He must be used to superheroes storming his kitchen.

“Where did the Americans land on D-Day?” the boy asks Tony, cutting right to the chase. Tony recoils, expression morphing into a,  _ How the hell should I know?  _ kind of thing. Steve clears his throat, and the kid turns expectantly.

“Utah and Omaha,” Steve says, and the kid smiles.

“Right,” he mutters under his breath. “I forgot you were….” He waves a hand in Steve’s general direction.

“Yeah,” Steve says with a grin. “I was.”

“Hey, wait,” Sam interrupts. “I took history in high school. I could’ve told you that.”

“Oh, yeah? What was General Eisenhower’s favourite food?” Steve challenges.

Sam blanches, and the kid giggles. “Alright, not fair. There’s no possible way I could’ve known that.”

“Thanks, Mr. Rogers,” the boy cuts in before he turns and stumbles from the room. Steve watches him go before Sam nudges his shoulder and starts humming  _ A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood.  _ Steve shoves him back.

“Who’s the kid?” Steve calls over to where Tony sits at the table, fingers tapping his mug as he smiles.

“Oh, that’s Peter.”

“Oh, Peter,” Sam repeats, nodding to Steve in mock understanding. “Of course, we should’ve known.”

Tony holds up a hand. “Alright, enough, asshole. He’s an intern that turned out to have more potential than any kid I’ve ever seen, easily more than  _ you,  _ so he hangs out at the tower every now and then.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable,” he says, taking a swig from his cup before marching to the table and pouring the contents of Tony’s mug into his own. Tony reaches for Sam’s arm but he sidesteps and reaches the elevator before Tony can grab him. Sam gives Steve a mock solute just before the elevator doors close, and Steve grins, hurrying to make a fresh pot before Tony blows a hole in the floor chasing Sam down.

Tony sighs as he looks into his empty cup. “It’s so hard being me,” he says, and Steve huffs in amusement as he leans back against the counter.

“Tony,” he says quietly, “why didn’t you tell any of us you have a kid?”

“Peter’s not mine,” Tony answers calmly, as if he’d gotten this question multiple times before and answering it is routine.

“Look, I get it. Our line of work is dangerous, and you want to protect your kid-”

“Rogers. He’s  _ not mine. _ ”

“Oh, come on,” Steve says, taking a step toward the table. “You two are practically identical.”

“No way,” Tony scoffs, lifting his mug to his lips and sighing when he finds nothing there.

“Stick a tie on him, draw on a goatee, and leave him to smoulder in front of some cameras. It’ll be a mirror image.”

“Yeah, that’s insane.”

“I’m just saying,” Steve says quietly, shrugging, “you two look really comfortable with each other. It’s nice to see you trusting someone.”

Tony drops his eyes to the table, where Steve can see his fingers tapping nervously against the wood. He hears someone clear his throat and turns back to the hallway. Peter is standing there, his school books clutched to his chest with one hand as the other nervously runs through his hair. Steve doesn’t have to ask if Peter heard their conversation; by the way his feet nervously shuffle, Steve knows he did.

“Um, Mr. Rogers?” he stutters.

“Just Steve, kid.”

“Right,” Peter nods, eyes flitting around the room. They never once land on Tony. “I was just wondering… what was General Eisenhower’s favourite food?”

Tony barks out a laugh from the table, and Steve smiles wide.


	3. Flash

Peter exhales a sigh of relief as he shoves open the back door to his school, the end-of-day bell still ringing faintly behind him. Friday evening has come at last! Tony will pick him up for the internship, he’ll be sent home at nine, and then he’ll have the entire weekend to just  _ sleep. _

Peter picks up his pace, practically skipping from the doors - and then, a foot kicks out and loops around his ankles.

Peter goes sprawling down the stairs.

His hands scrape against pavement as his legs curl in beneath him. By some miracle he manages not to hit his head, but it takes a moment to orient himself when he hears the laughs behind him. Peter allows himself another moment on the pavement - if the scrapes he felt tear their way into his skin when he landed could heal before he stands, that would be great. He begins to shove himself up and wipes his hands on his pants. Flecks of blood wipe off on his sweats, but his hands look… otherwise fine. Huh, would you look at that.

Peter turns with a raised eyebrow. Honestly, he’s just bored, and he  _ really  _ wants to go home

Flash saunters down the steps toward him. “Oops,” he says as he comes to a stop just in front of Peter, and Peter rolls his eyes.

“What do you want, Flash?”

“Ooh, what’s got you so upset?” Flash hums, and Peter rolls his eyes.

“Come on, man. I just want to go home.”

“So what are you gonna do, huh?” Flash says quietly, leaning in closer. “Go running to Daddy for help?” Flash looks pointedly behind Peter to the parking lot, and Peter turns to follow his gaze - and there’s the black Audi sitting in the middle of the parking lot where Peter’s sure Tony parks it just to get attention. As desired, students milling around gradually make their way over to the car, giving it a wide berth and taking photos of the license plate. They should be used to it by now, seeing as Tony had been picking Peter up after school every Friday for the last couple of months. At least they don’t pester him with questions about it anymore, and all the fake people that have tried to get close have gotten bored in their attempts.

Looking through the back of the car and to the rearview mirror, Peter sees a pair of sunglasses, clear as day - Tony watching him. Peter can even see Tony’s eyes moving beneath the glasses.

_ What are you gonna do, go running to Daddy for help? _

Peter smiles, a faint smirk crossing his lips. He turns back to Flash.

“Yes, Flash,” he says. “Yes, I am.”

As if on cue Tony steps from the Audi. Flash looks up, fear evident in his expression, as Tony pulls a gauntlet over his hand. Peter grins and steps back as Tony glides through the parking lot, the group of students trailing behind him. “I heard someone’s bothering my kid,” Tony says, voice echoing around the school grounds. Peter grins as he steps back, taking up a spot to Tony’s right.

“I-I wasn’t-” Flash says, stumbling back. Tony moves forward and shoves the gauntlet in his face.

“Oh, yeah?” he says, amused, as if this is all a game. “We’ll see about that.”

Tony fires a blast in Flash’s direction and he goes flying back into the wall of the school. The students cheer as the wall crumbles, as the bricks begin to collapse, as the school falls in on itself-

“-arker!” Flash yells in Peter’s face, and Peter is yanked back to reality, shaking off the daydream. Flash stands before him, whole and unarmed. The students have become bored of the car and are now trailing off to their respective homes. Tony eyes Peter from the mirror, watchful as ever.

Flash scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Wow, you’re completely useless, aren’t you?” he grumbles, stepping around Peter - and Peter can’t help himself.

“Not nearly as much as you,” he mumbles.

Flash turns sharply. “What?” he demands.

“I said, Have a good weekend.”

Flash just shakes his head, rolling his eyes in disgust as he turns and strolls from the school grounds. Peter entertains the daydream once more, and there’s a smile on his face by the time he settles into the passenger’s seat beside Tony.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Tony asks as he puts the car in  _ Drive. _

Peter grins. “Mr. Stark, can I have a gauntlet?”

“An Iron Man gauntlet?” Tony supplies calmly. “No. No way.”

“It was worth a shot.”


	4. May

Peter finishes putting the last ornament on the fake Christmas tree that stands in their apartment. He steps back and admires his work.

It’s a mess.

But for his first time decorating the tree in three years, and his first time ever doing it alone, he thinks it’s not too bad.

May walks by in that moment, a red bow in her hair and large, dollar store green earrings dangling from her ears. “It looks so pretty,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Peter’s head. He’s fixed staring at the tree and doesn’t pull away.

This is their first Christmas celebrating without Ben. The first Christmas…  _ after  _ was too soon to be partying, and the next still felt like a bleak affair. Now, May wants to get back to some sense of normalcy, and Peter’s trying, he really is - he’s trying because she is. He just doesn’t know if he can get through this. With just him and May here, the absence of a third party is glaringly obvious. Ben’s seat still waits at the table.

Peter turns away, shaking his head to try to uproot the thoughts from his brain. The scent of whatever May’s cooking on the stove wafts toward him, and it’s not an inherently good smell, but the memories that it carries are. It’s an apple pie, probably with too much cinnamon and undercooked apples and a burnt crust, but Peter’s never cared about any of that, and he thinks that this year, it might just carry him through.

“The pie should be done by the time we finish the stew,” May says, setting a serving bowl of vegetable stew on the table as Peter reaches for the plates. He pulls three from the cabinet before stopping, shaking his head, and putting one back. May grabs the utensils and the cups and they settle at the table.

Peter reaches instantly for the food, not realizing how hard this one meal was going to be and just wanting to hurry through it as fast as possible, when he feels May’s eyes on him. When he looks up, May is smiling pleasantly at him, and he stares back.

“What?” he says, his tone abrupt and veering on harsh. He feels guilty the moment the word leaves his mouth, but May, to her credit, doesn’t falter.

“It’s nice,” she says quietly, smiling softly at Peter. Peter blushes and looks away. “I mean it. Celebrating Christmas again… I missed it.”

Peter keeps his eyes down as he reaches, once more, for the food. “Is two people eating a meal really considered a celebration, though?”

“Well, if you want a larger gathering, maybe you should invite your father.” Peter frowns, fork held in midair, as he looks up at her. She offers him a smirk in return. “You know,  _ Mr. Stark. _ ”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck and averts his gaze, this time for a different reason. “Tony isn’t my dad.” He says the name in the off chance it’ll make May believe him, but the word sounds foreign on his tongue. He vows to stick with  _ Mr. Stark  _ from now on.

May laughs. “Don’t you think I know that? I mean, if you want to make this more of a party… why not invite him?”

“May, I can’t just invite  _ Tony Stark  _ over for Christmas. It would be weird, like inviting a-a teacher over for dinner.”

“Didn’t you tell your kindergarten teacher that you were in love with her? What was her name-”

“Miss Regina,” Peter mutters before shoving a forkful of stew in his mouth. His entire face feels like it’s on fire. He  _ hates  _ this. “Wait, are you implying that me and Mr. Stark-”

“Heavens, no,” May says as she fills her own plate, waving Peter off. “That would be- a whole other issue, no. I’m saying, if you want, and if you’d be comfortable… give him a call.”

“May, I can’t just  _ give Mr. Stark- _ ”

“You have his number, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Peter mutters as his knee nervously bounces beneath the table, “but it’s not that easy.”

“Of course it is. What, you want me to do it?” May stands, beginning to reach for where her phone sits on the counter. Peter stands abruptly, almost knocking his chair over in the process.

“No! No, I’ll do it! Geez,” he mutters, stomping to his room to make the call, among the sounds of May laughing behind him. “And what are you, on a first-name basis with him?”

“You’re the only one on this planet that still has enough respect to address him by his last name, Peter,” May shouts back as Peter rolls his eyes and dials the number.


	5. Conspirators

Peter wakes on Sunday morning to forty-something notifications on his phone. He can’t even see clearly as he squints at the first one, an Instagram follow request and a direct message from Dave. That’s the kid in his science class, right? Yeah, he asked Peter for a pencil once.

_ Hey Peter! What do you say we hit up the mall later on today? _

Peter frowns at his screen. That message couldn’t have been meant for him, right? He doesn’t think he’s ever held a full, casual conversation with Dave. Odd.

Peter scrolls to the next notification. This time, it’s from Twitter. Seven people tagged him in the replies of a Tweet.  _ Very  _ odd.

More awake now and moving one notification down, Peter sees six texts from Ned, the most recent of which reads,  _ peter omg omg check tmz peter what’s going on peter peter peter,  _ sent at two in the morning.

“What the hell, Ned,” Peter mutters under his breath as he opens Twitter, looking for the famed Tweet that  _ so  _ many people thought to send him.

Peter has to read it twice, before blinking and trying one more time.

_ Spider-Man: a high school student named Peter Parker? Tony Stark’s biological son?  _ and then a link.

Peter goes still.

First of all, what the hell. Second of all:

What. The.  _ Hell. _

Peter dials Tony and puts the phone on speaker as he continues to scroll through his notifications, one after the other of “Hey, Peter! Long time no talk!” and “What do you say we meet up? I miss you!” and the ones that get right to the point, “Is it true?” Peter’s breaths quicken with every new word he reads until finally,  _ finally,  _ the ringing ends, and Tony’s voice comes through the other side.

“Hiya there, Pete!” he says, too quick, too happy. “Kind of early in the morning, huh? How’ve you been?”

Peter sighs in disgust as he comes across one of Flash’s Tweets -  _ penis? no way. that’s impossible. loser can’t even tie his damn shoelaces. @TMZ, fire that reporter or my parents will shut your whole company down _

A small part of Peter’s brain urges him to confirm the rumours - or, one of them, anyway - just to stick it to Flash. The rest of him knows that’s an awful idea.

Peter lifts his thumbnail to his mouth and begins gnawing on it when he realizes he’s been ignoring Tony for too long. “Don’t use your PR voice with me,” Peter mutters as he scrolls through Tweet after Tweet, including photos of him and classmates that claim to be his best friends and even one that claims to be… the mother of his child? Ugh.

“It’s not my PR voice,” Tony says, defensive. Peter sighs, having seen enough, and throws his phone back onto the bed as he paces the room.

“Is someone throwing darts, or did something actually stick?” Peter demands, speaking loud enough for his phone to pick up his voice.

“Sorry, kid,” Tony says after a moment. “I said one too many things in one to many interviews and… they must’ve caught on, all these damn conspirators.”

Peter falls back on his bed. “So, they know.”

“Well, not exactly. They have one theory, but we can put out a few others to confuse them.”

“Yeah, okay, I can do that,” Peter says, beginning to process a game plan. “Maybe I could take some photos, or  _ leak  _ some information from an- an anonymous account, or….” His voice trails off as he blinks up at the ceiling. Tony clears his voice on the other end of the line.

“Kid? You with me?”

Peter’s lips quirk up in a smile. “What if we play this out?”

Peter doesn’t mind the silence that follows his words - it’s a pretty damn good plan, but it does need a minute to process.

“Excuse me?” Tony says after a moment.

“Yeah. I mean, father-son, you know?”

Tony barks out a laugh. “Parker, you’re insane.”

“What? It could work! I mean, clear my name, obviously, but… you know, if Spider-Man was your kid… maybe I could make some public appearances.”

“Oh, so this is about the fame.”

“No! No, I mean, so I don’t really have to hide anymore. We could share some… some bent version of the truth, you know? I don’t think the public trusts me much, anyway, so maybe if I was standing beside you….”

Tony is quiet for a moment, and Peter begins gnawing on his lower lip. The fact is just now setting in that he suggested the idea, that he  _ wanted,  _ to act as Tony’s son.

It’s weird.

“Interesting notion,” Tony hums after a moment, and Peter’s brow furrows in worry. “We can look into it. In the meantime, let’s just work on clearing your name, alright?”

“Sounds good,” Peter says, and he hates what happens next, with every fiber of his being. He hates that the words get mixed up in his head, that ideas get crossed, that he gets confused, because what Peter says next is, “Thanks, Dad.”

His breath catches in his throat and he’s left staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

He didn’t say that.

He did  _ not  _ just say that.

No. No, no, no.

Tony says nothing for the next- what,  _ hour?  _ When his voice rings through again, just enough for Peter to hear the first syllable, a, “Wha-” Peter leaps for the phone so quickly, in his haste to press  _ end call,  _ that he cracks the screen.


	6. + One

Tony frowns when he gets a phone call from Peter at 9:32pm, just over half an hour since he left the tower. Huh. Maybe the kid forgot something from their session in the lab.

Tony picks up the phone and leans back in his desk chair. “Hey, Pete.”

Peter takes a shaky breath from the other end of the line. “Hi, Tony.”

Tony sits bolt upright. His first name; it’s an impromptu signal.

Something is wrong.

“Peter, what’s going on?”

“I, um…” Peter’s voice is strained. “I was kidnapped.”

Tony signals up to Friday.  _ Trace it.  _ “Are you okay?” he asks, voice level. He can’t be sure that no one’s listening, and he doesn’t want to give away just how much he cares, not when they have the most valuable thing in the world to him in their grips.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Peter says, voice shaking in an attempt at levity. “I’m tied to a chair. She’s holding the phone to my ear.”

Tied to a chair. That means they have Peter Parker and  _ not  _ Spider-Man. Peter can’t use his powers to escape, but this means he’s in less danger. It’ll be easier for Tony to get to him.

“Alright. Okay, hang tight, kid.  _ Behave. _ ”  _ Don’t do anything rash, and for the love of all things good, keep yourself out of danger. _ “I’m coming for you, okay? Can you tell me anything about the situation?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then- “Oh, no dice.” A woman’s voice. “I’m afraid he can’t tell you that.”

Friday pulls up a hologram. She’s narrowing down Peter’s location.

“Who am I speaking with?” Tony asks in his PR voice. He can’t let this woman think she’s worth his time, can’t let her believe that she holds his entire world in the palm of her hand (she does).

“I’m a philanthropist, unlike what you seem to call yourself.”

“See, I was asking for a name, not a job description.”

“You don’t need my name. I just need your money to do  _ actual  _ good in this world, instead of blowing up buildings and claiming it’s for the betterment of humanity, and I’ve got your kid, so you’d better listen.”

Tony can’t let her words root themselves in his brain right now. She’s trying to get under his skin, and even though she’s hitting all the right buttons, he won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s won.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said those words.”

“Very funny, Stark. I want four million.”

The holographic display flashes before him. Friday’s found a location. “Sounds great. Let’s get together and hash it out.”

The woman gives him a location a mile away from her place and twenty minutes to get there. He’ll be at her location in ten.

Friday sends his suit to him without him even having to ask. “Put the kid back on,” he says.

“You can speak to him all you want in 20 minutes.”

“I need proof of life.” And Tony knows she wouldn’t kill Peter when she’s so close to getting what she wants, and  _ especially  _ not with Peter’s enhancements to protect himself, but still, even the thought of Peter’s death is enough to send Tony to the verge of a spiral.

“Mr. Stark.”

Tony heaves a sigh of relief as he takes off into the sky, Friday guiding him to where he needs to be. “Hi, kid. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Peter says, his voice tinted with relief.

“I’ll be there soon, alright? I’m coming for you.”

“I know.”

Peter’s voice gives way to the slightest tremble. He may be an enhanced that can break his bonds at any moment, but he’s still just a kid, and right now he’s selling the  _ scared and vulnerable  _ act a little too well.

“You’re scared,” Tony says quietly. Peter gives a noise of acknowledgement from the other end of the line. “I know, baby. It’s okay to be scared.” The term of endearment slips out, but Tony doesn’t think he minds, and he knows Peter doesn’t, either. “It’s okay. I’ll be right there, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Peter says, voice trembling and a pitch too high just as Friday notifies him that the call’s location is coming up just ahead.

Lovely.

“You trust me, don’t you, Peter?”

The answer comes quickly. “Of course.”

“Brace for impact.”

Tony blows through the nearest wall, sending bricks and dust and cement chips flying as he lifts his repulsors blindly.

Through the haze around him he sees a person seated in a chair in the centre of the room, looking worried and dirty yet unscathed.  _ Peter,  _ Tony thinks, his heart doing a little tap dance in relief. Beside him stands a woman, hunched over and coughing. Tony doesn’t falter before sending a sonic blast in her direction, and takes a glimmer of satisfaction from seeing her hunch over in pain before swiftly collapsing.

That’ll teach her for taking Tony’s kid.

Tony steps out of the suit, letting it pace on sentry mode as he hurries toward Peter. The ropes are broken by the time Tony gets there, leaving Peter sitting in the chair, rubbing his wrist as he stares into the middle distance. Tony crouches in front of Peter, and only then does he move, lifting his gaze and offering a small smile.

“Hi,” Peter says quietly.

“Hey,” Tony hums. He reaches a hand to brush against Peter’s cheek; he doesn’t like the empty look in his kid’s eyes. “You alright?”

Peter gives a shaky nod, moving to stand from the chair, but his limbs tremble and he collapses to the ground. Tony’s there to catch him, cradling Peter’s head to his chest.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, beginning to rock them gently back and forth as Peter struggles to get up. “Take a moment, kid. ‘S okay.”

“I’m fine,” Peter mutters, trying to push Tony away - but his arms are weak. Tony barely budges.

“Peter, take a breath.”

“I’m  _ fine- _ ”

“Peter, please.”

Peter stops, hands going limp as he stares blankly at Tony’s suit jacket sleeve. Tony watches him worriedly as the first tear falls, followed closely by the second.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispers, moving to swipe at the tears. Tony catches his hand.

“Why on earth are you sorry?” he demands lightly.

“I failed. I’m Spider-Man and I failed- I let myself get taken, I couldn’t get out, I-”

“No, no, Pete. Hey.” Tony tips Peter’s chin up to face him. “None of this is your fault, you hear? You were scared. You froze. It happens.”

“I can’t be scared,” Peter mutters, face red. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Peter, you  _ admitted  _ to me that you were scared.” Peter clenches his jaw. “It’s  _ okay.  _ It’s okay, Pete. Look, I was terrified!”

Peter peers up at Tony through his lashes. “You were?”

“Of course! I was so scared for you, buddy.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Being your kid sucks.” His voice is thick with emotion.

“Wha- my kid?”

“She caught me walking home from the tower. Apparently, she had been tracking me… the stupid conspiracy theories tipped her off.”

“So she actually thought you were-”

“Your biological child. Yup.”

Tony watches Peter for a moment, and then his expression splits into a grin. Peter follows suit, chuckling, and then full-on laughing. He wipes away a tear, and Tony can’t tell if it’s because he’s laughing, or finally feeling what he’s been repressing.

Tony pulls Peter back to his chest for one more final, bone-crushing,  _ thank-God-you’re-alive _ hug. Peter responds by clutching tightly to Tony, and they sit there, holding tight to each other and just breathing together. Peter cries, and maybe Tony sheds a few tears as well, but they’re okay now.

They’re safe.


End file.
